


La Furtive Douceur

by cambria



Series: Cambria's Holiday Specials 2018 [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Here be angst, post-Conqueror of Shamballa, soul transference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 11:44:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17161397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cambria/pseuds/cambria
Summary: Annelise has spent her whole life working hard and breaking barriers to get herself somewhere she can say she's content. But these strange dreams and stranger men... well. Women have thrown away their hearts and ambitions both for less.





	La Furtive Douceur

**Author's Note:**

> An angst fic because it was supposed to be cute originally but I scrapped it for another (happier, sappier) fic but now I still have this and I don't hate it? So have some angst because Alt!Anna has a thing for Ed but is pretty uniquely placed to help him and Al get home. Kind of if she took Roy's place in Les Forces Perdues.
> 
> No connection to L'alchimiste et L'apothicaire! 
> 
> See end notes for French translations.

There's no good reason for Edward to be keeping the windows open when it's below freezing outside. When I get to their apartment, the door is unlocked. I don't bother knocking and simply let myself in. I quietly take off my boots after closing the door behind me, but keep my coat on. Even the heating's turned off. Is it something that reminds him of home? Doesn't Alphonse have anything to say about it?

I busy myself going around closing all the windows and brushing the snow off the sills. Pull the curtains open as far as they go. The living room first, then the dining room, Alphonse's room, the guest room. I falter in front of Edward's door, still slightly ajar. I can't hear him snoring. Is he asleep?

Even though my knock is gentle, the door slowly opens. Edward is sat up, propped against the headboard of his bed, a book open on his lap and several notebooks and loose sheets of paper strewn around him. The winter breeze makes his open curtains flutter. I pull my gloves off and stow them in my coat pockets and move to the window to close it.

"Don't close it all the way," a mutter comes from behind me. I oblige; I leave the window cracked a little less than an inch. Crank up the heating on the radiator. I can't see my breath, but it must be a just thing. I turn around and ball my fists at my hips.

"I know, I know," Edward dismisses with a wave. His eyes are still closed and his head is still leaned back. The book in his lap is closed, and he carefully puts it aside. "Is Al home yet?"

"Not yet no," I reply, feeling the frustration slowly leak away from me. It's hard to stay angry at him, like this. I let my arms fall by my sides and look to his bedroom door. "Have you eaten anything today?"

Edward throws an arm over his eyes and groans. Guess not.

"I hope you're okay with potato stew," I say over my shoulder, striding out of the bedroom, past the dining room and into the kitchen. I let my coat slide down my arms and toss it haphazardly at a chair. Don't really care when it falls off. Throw my scarf in the same general direction.

While I busy myself peeling and chopping potatoes and a few other vegetables, I can hear Edward shuffling around in his room. Probably gathering all his books and loose papers into... some kind of disorganized and precarious tower I'm bound to topple over later.

"So about tomorrow," I call out, over the sound of the boiling pot of water. The door to his room slowly clicks shut behind him. His hair's an absolute mess.

"What about it?" He asks, stopping in front of the coat on the floor before picking it up and letting himself sink into a chair at the dining table.

"Gracia invited all of us to dinner. Did you already forget?" When I turn around after carefully sliding the cut vegetables into the boiling pot, it's to see Edward wrapping my scarf around his neck. He pauses for a second, long enough to look lie someone with his hand stuck in the cookie jar, but eventually shrugs his shoulders.

"I still don't see why we have to go if Officer Asshole is gonna be there," Edward grumbles, pushing the wrapped scarf further up his face and looking away. "We're not... Al and I aren't even religious."

The correction stings. But I let it slide. It can't be helped if I look like her.

"It doesn't have to be about religion," I point out, adding salt into the pot and stirring absently. "It's just an excuse to get together and have good food. It can be, uh..." Frown and stare at the table before looking back up at Edward. "The word for ' _décontracté_ '? Relaxed?"

"Casual," he replies easily, frowning in turn. "I guess. Can we leave early?"

"Not before gin and coffee."

Edward groans in time with the squeaking of the door's hinges. Alphonse shakes the snow from his hair and coat before realizing I'm at the stove.

"Anne! I didn't know you were coming over!" Alphonse rushes over, drops a kiss of each cheek, and peers over the simmering pot. I slap a hand with the ladle.

"Get those wet boots off this floor you brute! It's bad enough you dragged in the _tempête_ with you." Alphonse has the decency to look sheepish before scuttering back to the front door and removing his boots. Wipes down the floor with his feet with a dishtowel I throw at him.

"How long til that's done? I'm starving," Ed laments from his chair, leaning back onto its hind two legs.

"Maybe you wouldn't be starving if you'd actually eaten today, _Alchimiste_."

Edward bristles at the name. "I told you to stop calling me that."

" _J'arrêterai quand ça sera faux_."

And the conversation ends there, until Alphonse sweeps back in at the table to speak to his brother. They both are too absorbed to pay attention to me, and that's perfectly fine.

* * *

I had just been moved to Germany when I first met Edward.

I had been hired by a prominent physicist for both my knowledge and ease with a typewriter. With the glowing commendations of one professor in particular, I had managed to find work in Germany. As a woman, having studied in medical sciences as much as was allowed, this was more than I could have hoped for. My employer treated me well enough; made no sexual advances and never alluded to wanting anything more than what my brain could provide.

And the pay was decent enough. Worth the glares and snide remarks from some of my peers, at the very least.

It hadn't been a week before I was accosted. I had been returning from a local shop after dropping off one of the several typewriters that had been left in disrepair. Someone kept shouting, "Anna!" I didn't believe someone was calling out for me until a hand, too solid and uncomfortable, landed on my shoulder.

I turned and moved to slap the arm away, but it barely moved. My knuckles were sore from it. Cradling my hand, I took a second to look at the man who'd grabbed me.

"That is you, right? Anna?" Golden eyes were wide in hope and disbelief. Whoever this man was had seen in me someone he'd clearly been missing.

Nevermind that I had never in my years seen eyes as pure a gold as that.

" _Désolée, mais..._ " First, he frowned. And then it was like a stone wall passed in front of his face. "I'm sorry, you must be confusing me with someone else, sir. My name is Annelise."

The man's arm, until then still hover at my shoulder, slowly fell as he took a step back. As he opened his mouth to, no doubt, apologize, his wince didn't escape me.

" _Attendez, votre_ —your arm. It is— _ah, merde. C'est quoi..?_ Artificial?" I tried, gesturing vaguely at his right arm.

Again, the man frowned, but looked more like he'd been punched in the gut. Grabbed at his right shoulder with his left hand and dug his thumb in.

"Yeah, it... Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." He turned and took a step to leave. I don't know what possessed me to grab onto his good—real—arm to stop him.

" _J'ai dit d'attendre_ , goodness. If the joint is sore, I can help you," I breathed out, taking a step forward. "I studied medical sciences in Grenoble. I may not be who you hope for, and I may not be a doctor, but I can help." I hesitantly let go of the man's arm. He looked down at the sidewalk for a moment, then out across the street, then off into the distance.

A change seemed to come over him when he turned around. Eyes gleaming and grin sharp, he extended his right hand out to me.

"I'm Edward Elric. Sorry if I scared you. It's nice to meet you, Annelise."

I sighed in relief, and shook his hand. Didn't flinch at the pressure he undoubtedly intended to be painful, and gave him a firm shake.

"You worked with Monsieur Heiderich, yes? On the rocket demonstration last year?"

Edward's eyes widened almost comically. "You—yeah, yeah that was us. I'm surprised you know about that."

"My employer takes great interest in the advance of technology." I let go of his hand and turned back to the direction I had been going in. Probably... Doctor Moore wouldn't mind if I brought in a stray. Let alone one with a brain. "Also, I'm... sorry for your loss."

Edward followed next to me, hands in his pockets, as I lead him to the office. His expression felt bittersweet. "Thanks, but it's not like we were that close. Where are you taking me, anyways?"

"The office I work in. Doctor Moore has a few tools that—"

"Wait," Edward stopped, again, in the middle of the sidewalk. Turned me around again with another hand on my shoulder. The movement of his right arm seemed even more unnatural, now, and he didn't even try to mask the hiss of pain. "Doctor Moore? _Physics and its Relation to the Unseen and Occult_? _That_ Moore?"

It was my turn to be wide-eyed and caught by surprise.

"Y-yes, that—you've heard of him?"

There was a darkness that passed in Edward's eyes, just for a moment. Something I couldn't understand. It was gone before I could think to ask about it.

We spent the next fifteen minutes walking and talking about Doctor Moore's theories, comparing personal interpretations of his work, and discussing Edward's prosthetic arm. Somewhere along the line, I learned that his left leg had also been lost. He didn't explain how, and I didn't ask why. The rise and violence of the nationalist regime alone had wreaked so much havoc. It wasn't my place to ask.

Once at the office, Doctor Moore didn't even ask why I had brought a stranger—and a man, no less—along with me. He simply offered Edward coffee and a seat by his desk. I didn't even need to do anything. I was promptly shooed away to continue working with the only functional typewriter as the Doctor worked on Edward's arm. He may have chosen physicist as a working title, but Doctor Moore was, at his core, a doctor. He was more than happy to help Edward with his arm.

As well as his damaged nerves. And sprained muscles, and torn ligament, and—

Needless to say, Edward ended up coming by the office every few weeks, after that. When I asked, before he left one day, he simply shrugged and stated that it was easier this way than constantly being judged by someone in the public practice. I would stay at my desk after that, quiet, serve coffee when asked. There was no doubt in my mind that Edward was there to dig into Doctor Moore's mind just as the doctor was happy to do the same in kind.

* * *

"At least make an effort to look happy, you _sans-coeur_ ," I whisper harshly, elbowing Edward in the ribs, careful not to drop the package in my hands.

"What are you talking about. I'm absolutely ecstatic."

" _Pince-sans-rire._ "

The door opens to Gracia's glowing smile, the smell of mulled wine and the chatter of a small crowd. The roar of the fire I know is burning is buried under laughter.

"Boys! Annelise, I'm glad you could make it. Come in!" The opens the door wider. "Maes is by the fire with a few friends from the college. Noah should still be in the kitchen." The brother go through first; Edward practically make a beeline to the kitchen, barely taking the time to toe off his shoes. Alphonse heads for the sitting room. As Gracia closes the door behind me, I stay by the landlady and offer her the blue, ribbon-tied box.

" _Félicitations_ , Madame Hughes. I hope the pregnancy is going well," I say, handing over the box. The mother-to-be looks surprised, for a moment, before her face crumbles into grateful happiness.

"Thank you, Annelise," Gracia whispers, a hand on her swollen belly as she cradles the box to her chest. "For the gift, but for taking care of Edward and Alphonse. I know they're a handful."

I take care of putting my own coat and boots away, wrap my shawl closer around my shoulders and follow Gracia to the kitchen. Alphonse is chuckling at something and Edward seems like he's violently trying not to smile. The darker-skinned woman, whom I assume is Noah, cuts herself off mid-sentence when she sees me. Gracia throws me a knowing look before puttering off somewhere else in the house to deposit the gift-box. Noah rushes over to me and clasps my hands in hers.

It takes a few uncomfortable second before she looks up at me. Tension seems to ease from her shoulders.

"It truly is good to finally meet you," she says quietly, slowly letting go of my hands. Her voice sounds like honey and silk. She returns to the counter where she was preparing what seems like dough for a pie. I can't help but stay riveted in place, looking up at the brothers.

Edward shrugs and Alphonse looks something akin to apologetic.

The Rroma are like that, I suppose.

The rest of the evening goes on mostly without any other strange incidents. I help Gracia and Noah in the kitchen after they manage to chase Alphonse and Edward out. Noah and I revel in the mulled wine and laugh together at the stories Gracia tells of the boys while they were still her tenants. When the turkey is ready and pulled out of the oven, you can feel the conversation dying in the rest of the home as everyone remembers that this is meant to be a Christmas dinner.

The table in the dining room is in fact two tables shoved together, and even then it's a tight fit for the twenty three people present. Maes offers a toast, in general at first, but then goes into specifics about a "return home to those who are lost" that seems to personally affect Edward and Noah more than anyone else.

The food is delicious.  
And I have never tasted a pie so sweet.

Once stomachs are full and eyes are glossy with satisfaction, coffee and tea are brought out. Edward and Maes ask for a Brandy nearly at the same time. I ask for another glass of wine. A man named Jean—presumably a friend of Maes—excuses himself to go smoke outside, but not before he's served a glass of Brandy of his own.

Most everyone retreats to the sitting and drawing rooms. Gracia and Noah make quick work of clearing the two tables. Edward and I are the only ones who remain seated. I feel the pocket sewn into m shawl even more acutely.

"I know you don't celebrate Christmas, usually, but..." I start slowly, looking down into the deep maroon of my glass. I put it down on the table in front of me, and pull the small envelope from my shawl. "I have—someone.... _merde que c'est dur à expliquer._ "

"It'd be easier if you didn't say it in French," Edward says, and though the tone his joking, his face seems uncertain.

"Not like you can't understand it," I mutter in reply. Take a deep breath, and slide the envelope across the table to him. "For a while, now, I've been having dreams I can't understand. Everyone looks the same, but everything is different."

Edward's hands slam on the table as he stands up. Excuses himself and sits back down when Gracia rushes over to see if everything's alright. She leaves, but only reluctantly, and only after I assure her it's fine.

"She had a message for you—the one I share a face with. I don't know if she knew I could see through her eyes, but I wrote it down as soon as I woke up." I wring my hands in my laps. I'm not sure how he'll take it. " _Joyeux Noël_ , I suppose."

So many emotions cross through Edward's face when he tears open the envelope and unfolds the several pages inside. The complex circle the Other Me had drawn was hard to replicate and took several days—and dreams—to remember correctly. The notes were even harder to copy down, originally written in a code I couldn't begin to understand on my own. Without reading much of the letter proper, Edward lets his hands fall onto the table quietly and looks up at me.

"This... you know what this is, right?"

I hesitate before nodding. "I wasn't sure if your stories were ever true. I'm sorry—I know you and Alphonse always insist they are, but it's hard to believe. But doubt is a part of the scientific process, right? But I think I understand, now. As much as I can. And if a little sacrifice means helping you and your brother go back home..."

Edward stands abruptly and begins walking away. I stand up to go after him before realizing he's making his way around the table, pages still held tightly in his left hand.

I did not expect the tight embrace he has me wraps in.

"Thank you," he whispers into my hair. My heart stutters. It takes a moment to decide to rest my hands on his sides.

" _De rien_ ," I whisper back, doing my best to ignore Gracia in the doorway and Maes sipping his drink somewhere behind me.

Edward seems to regain some sense of self and quickly holds me at arm's length away. His eyes are gleaming and he looks a second away from crying. I can't help but left out a breath of laughter.

"Sorry, I—it's just—"

"It's after coffee. Shall I go find your brother?"

Edward breaks into a smile, drops his arms by his side and tips his head back.

"Yeah. He'll want to head back when he sees this."

Gathering my shawl back over my shoulders, I quickly down the rest of my glass of wine, and venture out into the sitting room to find the younger brother. Jean has found a spot leaning against the fire place, warming his hands, and nods in my direction. Alphonse sits on one of the couches and talks animatedly with a dark-haired man, who greets me when I approach them. Introduces himself as simply Roy, and explains, as a matter of pure coincidence, that he will also be starting work under Doctor Moore after the holidays.

Eventually, once we manage to collectively pry ourselves away—from the other guests and Maes' incessant rambling about his wife—I let Edward and Alphonse walk ahead to talk among themselves. Edward won't be able to keep quiet until they get home, and Alphonse had firmly announced that they would walk me home no matter what.

As thick snowflakes lazily make their way down onto, onto the street and into my gloved hands, I begin to think that maybe this isn't too terrible. Maybe being a conduit to something bigger than myself is alright, if it means returning two lost boys home.

Put my hands into my coat pockets and amble behind the brothers.

This is fine.

**Author's Note:**

> French Translations : 
> 
> Décontracté = relaxed, casual  
> Tempête = storm, in this case, a snow storm  
> Alchimiste = probably obvious, but alchemist  
> J'arrêterai quand ça sera faux = I'll stop when it'll be false (lit.), I'll stop when it stops being true  
> Désolée, mais... = Sorry, but...  
> Attendez, votre-/ah merde. C'est quoi... = Wait, your-/ah shit. What is it...  
> J'ai dit d'attendre = I said to wait  
> Sans-coeur = no-heart (lit), heartless  
> Pince-sans-rire = an expression used to describe someone with a very dry sense of humour  
> Félicitations = congratulations  
> Merde que c'est dur à expliquer = Shit is it hard to explain  
> Joyeux Noël = Merry Christmas  
> De rien = it's nothing


End file.
